Unsent Letters
by greysky3
Summary: Letters to the flock. No plot, no nothing. Just raw thoughts and emotions.
1. Love Letters

**A/N: Quote-**

**"You know you're in love when you can't fall asleep because reality is finally better than your dreams." **

**-Dr. Seuss.**

Fang,

First of all, this will never be sent. I'm just writing this, well, for the sake of writing. Pointless, right? But you'd need to know me. Who am I? A nobody. A face among millions, one fan that won't be missed in the grand scheme of things. But enough about me.

I write. I used to think I was an artist, but I realize I was wrong. I never try to overestimate anything, I'm always scared of being let down. In a way, I'm a poet. Not really. It doesn't really matter. All this to justify my pointless idea. I spend so much time justifying my every move…

I don't talk to people I don't know well. To come right out with it, I don't like people that much. I take a long time to hand-pick a select few of trusted friends, but I don't tell my emotion. I feel vulnerable. I'd rather choke it back than regret spilling it all out.

I guess I'm like you. But you don't know me. That's okay. I'll survive. That's the sad thing, isn't it? No matter what happens to you, no matter what tragedies, your heart keeps beating. Your life keeps unfolding. Time keeps going no matter what petty humans do.

I'm a human. 100%. Not like you. I'm regular. I built a wall around me, a "normal kid" façade. I don't want to scare people. The thoughts that go through my head every day would terrify adults. _Oh, she's suicidal, she's depressed._ No. I want to live; I like my life. I just like to go deeper, think about my meaning in the world.

Why can't I think freely? Again, better to keep it all in. To not let everyone see your irrational fears that may not be so irrational as you grow up.

As I said before, you'll never get this. I guess I just poured out my heart to empty it a little. Like screaming into empty landscapes. I hope for the best, in general, for you, for me, for the world.


	2. The Other One

Maya,

I know. Just trust me. It may not seem like it, but I know. I'm sorry. I'm sorry for all you've suffered through. I like the name you picked—Maya. It's pretty. Your name reminds me of an old story I won't go into. Let's just say it pretty much tore me apart. Build defenses around you, right? So it won't happen again.

I know. I know what it's like, to always live in someone's shadow. To never be you, but _her_ friend, _her_ enemy, _her_ twin. She always does better than you. Whenever you manage something, whenever you have something nice, she tops it. People admire her, but you just tag along and hope for scraps.

And then, the one guy you wanted, she comes along and snatches him away. Without trying. Because she's better than you in every way, and that's just a fact of life. You have to accept it and learn to cry on your _own_ shoulder. You have to train yourself, choke it back, make your own life. And live with the fact she's living a parallel life, only better.

You smile together in front of everyone, acting like in a theater. You feel uncomfortable around her, because you have to keep a smile on your face. You have to bite back all the pain, stop yourself for throwing everything she did to you back into her face. You smile, but just seeing her and her new life hurts you.

But whatever. Build up those defenses, add another brick to the top of the highest tower of your castle. She can't take anything from you now that you're gone. You've been silenced, for good.

I understand, trust me. Sometimes, I feel like screaming that it isn't fair. Know the feeling? Bet you do.

**Thank you for reviewing: and SkyGirl68**


	3. Of Flocks

Hi Max,

I wanted to talk about the flocks. My flock, and your flock, that is. Yes, I have a flock. And I've had it for a while. On the bus. I'm the oldest, so I was appointed. Well, it was more of a self-appointed kind of thing, but I'm openly acknowledged as leader.

They're great. They're my family, two hours a day, five days a week. I really care about them. Who talks to them all the time? Who helps the younger kids with their math homework? Who always lets them borrow pens, does them favors, and viciously insults anyone who's mean to them? I do.

They're also there for me. On days when I frown out the window, looking out melancholically, the little kids ask me if I'm okay. I force a smile on my face, tell them it's nothing; say I'm just tired. I ask them about their day, and listen patiently; glad they're not worrying about me anymore. Because really, I don't deserve that.

The sad thing is I'm leaving. This is my last year. I probably won't see them more than once a year, briefly. They'll forget me, live on with their lives. The two oldest boys will take over, and hopefully protect the little kids. I made a speech, telling them how they'll have to take insults, threats, and anything to have their backs. Just like I did. I'll tell them at the end of the year.

This mother hen is going to have a hard time losing her chicks. I don't know why I attached to them so much. Maybe it's because we were all a sort of team under oppression. I'll miss them. I won't forget them. I hope they remember me as the nice big kid who made sacrifices for them. For me, just the memory of them will me enough, as I revolve away, making my own life.

Take care of your flock; you don't have to leave them.


	4. Cassandra

Angel,

Hi, sweetie. It must be hard. You can see everything. You can see what will happen. Yet no one believes you. Why can't they trust you? Why can't Max see you've loved her the most all along?

Do they really fear you so much? You tell Max to breathe underwater, she thinks you want to drown her. You tell her that Fang would die, to help her and warn her, and she attacks you. You're like that old myth of Cassandra; she tells the future, predicting catastrophes, but no one believes what she says. She just has to watch it happen.

But you're no myth. You're painfully real. All of this is happening right now. Why you? It's not like you _asked_ for your powers. And you tried your best, really. But you're only a kid; you're six. Sometimes, they seem to forget that, and they ask too much of you.

Sometimes they remember at the worst times, and just when you've learned to grow up, they brush you off. You're only a kid right? Let's not trust her; let's not believe her. They say things about the boy who cried wolf, but they forgot one important thing: the last time, when he screamed the loudest, there really was a wolf.

Too young to be trusted, too old to get compassion. Looks like you got the worst of both worlds, kiddo. Hold on, for me.


End file.
